Never Let Me Go
by ChristianGateFan
Summary: Charles/Erik. The mission to Russia goes differently, and with Erik dying in his arms Charles takes desperate, drastic action to save him.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so...yes I'm going to update the other two X-Men stories soon, but I needed to kickstart my brain again. That seems to happen a lot recently. but I'm in college, so there's a lot going on in there and it gets all jumbled and yeah...anyhoo. :P And yes this has chapters and is not a oneshot like The Choice, but it's not going to be really long or anything. And yes I realize that there is a movie and more than one book with this title, but whatevs. I like it and it fits. So, shamelessly stolen? Yes. :P However the plots of those books and that movie have nothing to do with this story.

Anyhoo, here ya go. Let me know if ya'll like it at all and such, thanks so much!

Never Let Me Go

He should have seen it coming.

He should have known it was a horrible idea, and he did, really, but he couldn't stand safely by in the trees and allow Erik to get himself killed, and he couldn't leave him behind.

Charles _knew _it was a bad idea to burst into the home of a senior Soviet official, but Erik had already gone in before him. He knew it was an even worse idea to go in when there was already another telepath inside, but he told himself he had to go in to protect his friend. He was the only one here who could defend against the other telepath. Emma, if the one memory Erik had of Shaw referring to her by name in Florida was correct.

It wasn't hard to find Erik, once he was inside. He needed only to follow the trail of unconscious men in the corridors, their guns in pieces on the ground beside them. Charles rounded a corner and found Erik coming to a stop in front of a set of double doors. Charles could sense the Russian general and the telepath on the other side, but he didn't know how Erik knew it.

_Erik!_

Erik turned, paused, let him catch up but didn't say anything. From the jumble of adrenaline and anger and determination in the front of his friend's mind Charles managed to pick up the one small fact that Erik believed he was there to help, and that there was nothing to be said.

_Erik, you know me better than that. Or I hope you do. This is not a good idea. Likely she already knows we're here, after the commotion you've made. We should get out while we still can._

But Erik's jaw was set. _I can't do that, Charles. If we don't do this we'll never find Shaw. I have to find Shaw. _Undercurrents, the pain and anger that was always there intensified by the moment.

_Erik, please. She's a telepath. You don't know what you're getting into._

_ I know you. _

_ I've never tried to hurt you. She will._

Erik hesitated, knowing Charles had a point, but it didn't sway him. Charles was beginning to panic. Any moment now the other telepath would realize that they were out here, and though he could tell already that he was more powerful than she was, that wouldn't make it much less unpleasant if she attacked them.

And the thought of anything happing to Erik was, he suddenly realized, physically painful, though he wasn't entirely sure why. His stomach was cramping, his head was pounding, and his breath was coming shorter. He could stop Erik, if he wanted to. He could do it easily.

But it would destroy whatever trust they had, and he couldn't do that.

He wouldn't do that.

_It doesn't matter_, Erik was saying.

_Erik…!_

But he didn't listen. Before Charles could react Erik threw open the doors without touching them. He charged in and Charles had no choice but to follow him—more at his side, really—hoping his own powers would be enough to keep this from ending in disaster or war or both despite Erik's stupidity.

He was so ridiculously stubborn. He didn't think before he acted, and Charles hated it at the same time that it somehow endeared Erik to him even more.

It was so damn confusing.

Knowing Erik in general was so damn confusing.

And then confusion was all he knew. Emma hit them with it the moment she saw them, and he didn't have time to defend himself. Charles found himself stumbling backwards, vision blurred out and horribly dizzy and nausea setting in as a result, and he heard Erik groan beside him and knew the same was happing to both of them.

Charles tried to throw it off, fight her influence, but the vertigo was too strong and he couldn't focus on anything. It wasn't that she was strong, but that she'd caught him off guard. He couldn't fight past it himself—not quickly—and he couldn't help Erik, either.

The general, however, was not affected.

Charles saw the man fighting off his own quite natural confusion, even through the blurry vision and the nausea and everything else.

He certainly saw the gun the Russian was pulling from his belt.

Erik saw it too. He held up a shaking arm as if to pull it away but nothing happened, and Erik grimaced and staggered back farther and Charles felt it too as the telepath redoubled her efforts to keep them helpless. He heard himself cry out because it hurt now, too, and Erik grunted and surged forward as best he could.

Charles still saw the gun. He'd lost it for a moment but he saw it now, but though he felt himself just beginning to fight around Emma's influence, he couldn't reach the Russian. The general's fingers were closing around the trigger and he was scowling now, and Charles lashed out desperately but all the man did was blink before he pulled the trigger.

"ERIK!"

He went down backwards, knocked off his feet by the bullet he'd never had a chance in hell of deflecting. His eyes were open and he was gagging and gasping, and he wasn't dead but he would be if no one helped him.

Charles's mind was nothing but pain thanks to the other telepath, but maybe the panic was helping because the confusion and everything that came with it abruptly began to fall away.

"Erik!" he shouted again. He finally managed to get his fingers to his temple, and he lashed out once more, at the other telepath, fighting off in one desperate attempt anything that remained of her influence and shoving her and the Russian both into comas before letting his arm drop.

They were safe now. It would be days before either of them woke, if not weeks.

But Erik had a bullet in his chest.

Charles spun immediately, losing his balance and dropping to his knees just about where he wanted to be anyway—on the ground in the doorway. Erik was on his back on the floor, and the bloodstain spreading through the layers of clothing around the small, dark hole was not comforting. He'd obviously been hit low enough, far enough away from his heart not to kill him instantly, but in the long run that meant almost nothing.

He could still die.

"Erik! God…no no no…."

_Moira! Erik's been shot; we need help NOW! There's no threat inside. Everyone is unconscious._

Still calling frantically in his mind, hurrying the CIA operatives along, Charles pulled open the buttons of Erik's coat and unzipped the sweater beneath as quickly as he was able. He started to fold up the extra layers back over the wound to press over it but a hand caught his wrist.

"Wait," Erik gasped. He pushed Charles's hands and the extra layers of clothing away again and stretched his own trembling hand over the hole there.

"Erik—" Charles knew what he was doing, and it needed to be done but he didn't know if it were a good idea for him to use what energy he might have left to do it.

Then again, he supposed it wouldn't make much difference one way or another if it were already too late.

He locked that thought quickly away.

Erik's face was a mask of pain and he shook and his back arched from the floor, but one ungodly scream later and the bullet had pulled itself out and into Erik's hand. He threw it away, angrily, and when he collapsed backward again Charles had shifted and Erik's head and shoulders landed on his legs, one folded and one stretched out on the ground now.

Erik was coughing, and blood was coming up, and he was squirming from the pain and it was only making the bleeding worse.

"Erik, calm down. You have to calm down, please," Charles begged. He used a bit of influence to make it easier—he knew it had to be hard, as much pain as he was in—and in a moment Erik was limp but still gasping, but Charles was able to get the extra layers of clothing back over the wound and press them there. Erik let out an awful strangled sound, but the bleeding had to be stemmed.

Charles grimaced, and there was a lump in his throat. "I know! I know, I'm sorry. Oh god…" He couldn't panic. He couldn't panic. Erik didn't stand a chance if he panicked.

He pressed down as hard as he could, but the bleeding was not slowing. At least not enough. Soon both sides of Erik's sweater and jacket were soaked through with blood, and Charles had pulled his own coat off and pressed it there, instead.

"Hold on," he pleaded, trying not to choke on it. "Hold on…"

But Erik was fading.

"Charles," he grated out finally.

Charles was making out some of what he was thinking, and he didn't want to hear it. "No, no, you'll be all right. They're coming. We'll get help."

"There is…no help," Erik gasped. He coughed again, more blood—more blood soaking the coat under Charles's hands and more blood trailing from the corners of Erik's mouth. "No hospitals. Not close enough."

"Erik—"

He was groaning, trying to push Charles's hands from his chest, trying to stop him from saving him.

"No point!" Erik growled weakly.

"Erik stop!"

He stopped, but his hands were still around Charles's wrists though his grip was loosening by the second. He seemed to realize that, and one corner of his mouth quirked up and he made a sound that was something between a laugh and a cough.

"Wasn't…supposed to end this way," he whispered hoarsely.

"Nothing is ending," Charles insisted. The lump in his throat was bigger now, in the way, and his vision was swimming again but this time because his eyes were damp. "You'll be fine. You'll be fine…" The last bit came out a dry sob, but right now he didn't give a damn. He didn't have the time or mental capacity to give a damn. Not when Erik's life was hanging in the balance.

Somehow he managed to press down harder, and Erik gagged.

"Charles—!"

"I have to stop the bleeding or you're going to die, Erik!"

"Charles…I'm…"

"Erik, be quiet," he begged. "Please be quiet." He couldn't keep his voice even any longer. It just wasn't happening.

Oh god, where were they? He'd showed Moira where they were and how to get here. They should be close, shouldn't they? Or had it really not been as long as it seemed?

_MOIRA!_

They were coming, she said. Coming. Hurrying. Running.

Not fast enough.

"Charles…" It was barely audible now, Erik's voice, and it came out just as uneven as Charles's and he shivered against Charles's legs.

Charles finally looked him in the eyes again, and when he looked Erik's eyes were unfocused but on him, squinting to see better, and they were damp and Erik was swallowing between gasps of air.

_Charles, let me go…_

"No," he sobbed, and the tears were on his face now.

Why was this so hard? He'd met this man only weeks ago—a few short months, maybe, if one wanted to look at it that way—but they had connected more easily than he had ever had any sort of friendship with anyone other than Raven, and the idea of losing Erik was unbearable.

_Don't think there's a choice here…_

"No…no….!"

It _was_ pointless. He knew it now. There was too much blood and it wasn't stopping quickly enough and he could _feel_ Erik slipping away.

But he didn't want to believe it. Charles was shaking his head furiously, and he didn't know how Erik had the energy for it, but he must have used everything he had left to reach up behind Charles's neck and pull his head down.

Erik pulled Charles's lips to his and kissed him.

Charles responded, the rest of his body going weak because he knew now that this was what he'd wanted all this time, what the feeling in his chest every time he saw Erik had meant, but it didn't matter now, did it?

He sobbed against Erik's mouth, apologizing for the temporary break in contact with renewed vigor, and the kisses tasted of blood and sweat and tears but he wasn't going to complain because this was all they were going to have.

The words "I love you" fell from Charles's mouth at one point, and he knew he meant them, and Erik smiled weakly, much more sincerely this time.

_Then I can go. That was all I wanted to know. _

Erik didn't have to say it for Charles to know he felt the same, and his eyes were rolling up in his head now and Charles felt him leaving.

And suddenly Charles knew that he couldn't survive this loss. Not this one. He couldn't lose Erik. Not now. Not so soon. Not this way.

He panicked.

Charles didn't know what the hell he was really doing, but he panicked and he only had one idea, and for once he did what Erik would do and he acted before he'd really thought anything at all.

"No!" he gasped desperately.

More tears fell, and he bent over again and pressed his forehead to Erik's as firmly as they would go together, and he grabbed Erik's mind before it could slip away into nothing. But Erik's body was shutting down. He had to do _something_ beside simply hold on. He couldn't do that forever. They couldn't stay in this moment forever.

So he _pulled_.

It hurt more than he thought it would. It was harder than he'd ever dreamed and he wasn't ready for it and it _hurt_ and he didn't even know if it was working, but Charles held out even when he heard himself screaming.

Then everything went black.

* * *

><p>Moira heard the screaming from halfway across the general's mansion, and she knew it was Charles without reaching out to him.<p>

When she did try to reach out to him there was no answer, and the screaming stopped abruptly and the overly-large house was too silent. Weapon drawn, she and Levine led the team to the end of a corridor and around a sharp corner, and there were the open doors Charles had shown her.

Erik and Charles were both on the ground in the doorway.

Moira motioned quickly for the others to make sure there were no hostiles conscious and to see to getting the female telepath back to the truck, and she shoved her gun back into its holster under her jacket and bent near the two unmoving forms on the floor.

"Charles? E—"

She stopped abruptly, when she realized that there was no use in calling to the other man.

Erik's eyes were half-open and dark, staring at nothing, and the blood and the hole in his chest told the rest of the story.

He was gone.

"Oh god," Moira breathed. She'd never liked Erik much, and she felt guilty for that now. But she knew Charles cared about him. She knew they were close, and she knew this was going to be hard on Charles.

If Charles was alive himself.

He was collapsed over Erik's body and, trying not panic, she pulled him to her and turned him over—hoping more than she'd hoped anything in a long while that he was all right.

He was. He was unconscious, but there were no obvious injuries. He was breathing just fine. There was blood on his lips, but she doubted it was his.

His cheeks were stained with tears.

Moira swallowed and brushed his hair out of his face. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He didn't stir at all; not until later, in the truck on the way back to the plane. She sat in the back this time, on the end of the bench at the front of space where Erik and Charles had been on the ride in. Charles's head was in her lap, the rest of him stretched out on the bench, and he didn't wake up but he mumbled—sometimes calmly, but mostly not. More than once she had to calm him, hold onto him more tightly or stroke his hair and whisper to him.

Once he opened his eyes, not really awake but staring blearily at the floor of the truck bed before he was out again. If he'd seen anything at all he'd seen Erik's body, laid there carefully, his face covered with Levine's jacket.

They weren't going to leave a man behind.

Charles mumbled most of the way back to the plane, and it was too quiet for her to know what he was saying.

It was quiet enough that it took a while for Moira to realize that at some point he'd started speaking in German.


	2. Chapter 2

So the chapters for this one may continue to be a bit short, with exams and paper due dates coming up and such...hope ya'll will enjoy it anyway. :) Thanks so much for the reviews! Can't wait to keep hearing from ya'll! Thanks so much! :)

Chapter 2

When Charles woke there was a hand in his, he felt the same sort of cheap metal-framed bed beneath him, the same coarse sheets, and his eyes blinked open to the same dull gray ceiling he'd been seeing quite often in recent weeks—when he and Erik weren't out tracking down the mutants he'd found with Cerebro.

Erik.

Oh god, Erik…

And…not the same ceiling. The room was larger, the dull gray a little less dull.

"Wh…where…?"

The smaller hand in his squeezed, and then there was another on his forehead, smoothing his hair back. "It's not the base. We're at CIA headquarters."

Raven.

His head seemed to pound quite a bit harder than it should at the simple effort of turning his head to find his sister beside him, in a chair by the bed that really wasn't much more than a cot, and Charles grimaced. "What? Why…?" he asked faintly.

She'd looked pleased to see him awake, but her face quickly fell.

"Raven…?"

"Later, Charles," she winced. "You should rest."

He blinked around the crustiness in his eyes, realizing that if they were back in America he had been out of it for quite a while indeed. And Raven was upset—more upset than being worried about him. There was something else. "No…what happened?"

"Not right now—"

"Raven," he insisted, as sharply as he could manage.

She stopped and let out a breath, and looked away. Her other hand pulled away from his head and she squeezed the hand of his that she held in both of hers—looking at their entwined fingers instead of him.

"Shaw attacked the other base while you were gone. We lost Darwin and every single non-mutant that was there. Angel's gone too, but because she went with Shaw. The base is in ruins, and they destroyed Cerebro. Hank, Sean, Alex, and I are fine."

Charles just stared at her for a moment, trying to process all of that. He had to swallow hard before he could say anything. "Oh _god_," he managed. His eyes swam, and one of Raven's hands went back to his face and he turned his cheek into it, felt her thumb stroke across his cheekbone and brush away a tear or two before they could really fall. "And I thought Russia went badly enough…"

He heard more than saw raven bite back a sob. "I'm so sorry, Charles. I'm sorry about Erik…"

Charles let out a rush of uneven breath. "I…" He didn't want to go into that now. He couldn't.

He changed the subject.

"H-how long have I…?"

"A few days," she told him gently. "You were in the infirmary until today…something about readings changing and they were pretty sure you'd come out of it soon. You know I don't understand that stuff." She frowned. "No one knew what was wrong with you. You were just out of it. You wouldn't wake up. What happened?"

He shook his head. "I uhm…I don't know. I don't. I'm sorry."

Raven sighed and leaned up to kiss his forehead. "You're fine now. I guess that's all that matters…"

Charles licked his lips nervously. "Raven, did I…was I acting strangely at all? While I was unconscious?"

Please god, please…

His sister's brow furrowed again. "Now that you mention it…yeah. Kind of. You kept getting agitated, and you were muttering a lot. Half of the time it wasn't even English…Moira and Hank said it was mostly German. I didn't even know you _knew_ any German."

Charles's eyes slipped shut of their own accord, and all of the breath went out of him for a moment before he could pull in any more air. "I don't," he said quietly.

Now she was confused. "What?"

He shook his head slowly. "Nothing. I uhm…Raven, if you wouldn't mind…I-I would rather be alone just now…for a while. You can tell the others I'm awake, but…hold them off for a bit? Please?"

His sister studied him for a long moment and finally nodded. "Okay…" This time she leaned in to let him kiss her cheek, and she squeezed his hand and reluctantly let him be.

When she was gone Charles realized that the room had several cots, and that three of the others were obviously being used. The boys, then—bags and clothes and things strewn across two unmade beds that would belong to Sean and Alex and one bed made as immaculately as the unused cots but with a suitcase sitting on the footlocker at the end that Charles supposed was Hank's.

But he quickly lost any interest in the rest of the room.

_Erik?_

There was no answer.

Erik…god, Erik…

Charles merely had to close his eyes to see all of it clearly—Erik's blood on his hands and the small, contented smile Erik had given him before he died.

Content just because Charles loved him.

He could still feel Erik's lips pressed to his…the sharp metallic taste of blood mixed with the sweeter tang of sweat and tears.

_Erik!_

German. He'd been speaking German in his sleep. He couldn't have done it if it hadn't worked. Something of Erik was inside him, somewhere. It was what he'd tried to do. He remembered now, the desperation, how hard he'd tried to pull Erik's mind into his.

It had to have worked on some level. Even if…even if it wasn't all of him.

A small sob shook Charles's chest at the thought that maybe he'd only saved pieces. Memories. Feelings. Not Erik. Not really.

_ERIK!_

"Please," he sobbed aloud. "Please, please, please…"

And something shifted in his mind. Awakened. Something moved about, felt strange and awkward and wonderful all at once, and Charles shivered and sobbed again when a groggy voice answered him from within.

_Charles…?_

Charles latched onto the presence like a life-line—found it and tethered it to the surface of his mind so it would never be lost again…created a safe place for it.

_Erik! Oh god, Erik, thank god, you're here…_

_ I'm…where? What the hell…what happened? Why can't I move? Why can't I see you where are you? I can hear you. Who the hell is so messy…?_

Charles chuckled weakly, realizing that Erik must have had access to his senses but that of course he had no control...and he realized how confusing that probably was. He closed his eyes.

_What…? The lights…_

He ignored that comment and drew himself into his mind, to the safe place he'd created for the other consciousness that was there. In a moment he'd shifted their perceptions, and they were there. He wasn't sure quite how it was going to turn out, but when he opened his eyes—figuratively, really—it was the library at the house in New York.

Well, it had always been the only room in that house he truly loved, besides maybe his own. He'd spent so much time in here that he supposed it made sense that his mind would translate safe and warm to this.

And Erik was there, blinking at his surroundings and turning in circles as he took in the wood paneling and shelves of books and expensive furniture and huge fireplace.

"What…? Where the hell are we?"

There was no hole in his chest here. No bloodied clothing. Just his usual trousers and black turtleneck. What he was comfortable in. Charles's subconscious mind was creating this place and maintaining it now, drawing from Erik's as well.

Charles swallowed. "It's uhm…the library. In the house Raven and I grew up in. In New York."

"If you have a house with a library like this I don't know that I want to know how big the rest of it is…" Erik trailed. Then shook his head. "No, no, no. We're not in New York. We can't be. Where _are _we?"

"We're in my mind."

Erik stared at him. "We're…what? How is that possible? I can't remember…wait." He paused and looked away, his expression slowly becoming haunted as it came back to him. Finally his head snapped around, and his gaze fixed on Charles. "Charles, I…I _died_."

Charles crossed his arms over his chest and nodded wordlessly, gulping back the lump in his throat. And why did it have to seem so real in here, anyway? Sometimes he wished his powers weren't as strong as they were, as versatile. He wished it for different reasons at different times, and just now he wished it because his chest was tight and his throat was beginning to ache, and none of it was real but it felt like it.

"Then how am I here?" Erik questioned urgently. "What did you do?"

"I…I-I-I—"

"Charles, what? What did you _do_?" he demanded, and there was something akin to horror on his face and it was not the reaction Charles had expected.

"I-I saved you. The only way I could. I didn't know what else to do."

Erik blinked. "So what? I'm just…I'm in your head?"

He nodded again. "I pulled your consciousness into myself."

Erik swallowed now. "Then…when I woke up just now…"

"You were seeing and hearing what I was. Feeling, too, possibly. I'm not sure how far it goes. I-I…I've never done anything like this before. I didn't know if it would work, so I'm not entirely sure _how_ it works, now…" He trailed off helplessly, with no idea what to say after that.

And Erik was upset. He could see it and he could feel it and Charles had come so close to losing him but he hadn't, not quite, and he didn't want to deal with Erik angry at him just now, if that was what was about to happen. He couldn't do that yet.

"Erik…"

"Charles, what the hell were you thinking? I can't _stay_ here. I can't _live_ here! Not forever. I'm _dead_, for god's sakes!"

"No you're not. You aren't! Your body may be gone but your mind is still here. You are _not_ dead. You're here," Charles insisted.

"But for how long? This can't last, can it? This is only delaying the inevitable!"

"Well what if I wanted to!"

Erik went still, staring at him wide-eyed, and after studying him for a moment Charles realized that it wasn't anger in Erik's eyes. It was pain.

"Charles, I asked you to let me go," he whispered. "It would have been better if you'd let me go."

"I know that!" Charles choked. _No I don't. How would it have been better? You would be gone. How is that better?_ He kept those thoughts to himself."I'm sorry! I panicked!" He wasn't sorry. But he _had_ panicked.

Or…part of him was sorry, now. Erik was in pain, and it was his fault. Erik had thought it was over, but it wasn't. He was still here.

Charles had to convince him that it was a good thing.

It was, wasn't it?

Erik looked at him for a long moment, lost. "I don't understand…why did you…? I don't understand."

He sobbed once. He didn't mean to. "I couldn't lose you."

The look of pain and sympathy Erik gave him then was almost too much. "Charles…it's already over. It was over when the bullet hit me."

Charles shook his head stubbornly, not unlike he had before in Russia. "No! You don't understand. We can figure something out. It doesn't have to be over. You don't have to be…dead…gone…we can do something. We can figure this out. We can."

"Figure what out?"

Charles's eyes closed, and now the shake of his head was more helpless than anything. "I don't know," he moaned. "Erik, please, can we..._not_ do this now? Do we have to do it now? I _know_ this is crazy. I _know_ I acted rashly. But you're _here_, and I just…please?"

He opened his eyes…watched the tension in Erik's shoulders ever-so-slowly release. The guarded, pained looked faded enough for him to see…whatever it was that was underneath. It wasn't quite clear, and Charles was too shaken to attempt to read anyone just now.

Erik came to him, slowly, and took Charles's shoulders in his hands. Charles looked up at him, bewildered, because he didn't know what was going to happen now.

"I'm sorry," Erik said finally. "You tried to save me and now _I'm_ panicking, and I'm taking it out on you. I shouldn't have done that. I'm not making this any easier for you."

Charles let out a heavy breath. "It's all right…" he trailed weakly. He looked away, but Erik turned his chin back to face him.

"No, it's not. You're upset. Dying is one thing, but watching someone else die is worse."

"Certainly if it's someone you care about," Charles whispered painfully. Erik nodded silently. He didn't have to say anything else, because Charles knew that he knew. He'd watched his mother die. Charles had watched Erik die.

Warm lips pressed to his forehead, and Charles closed his eyes. "I just—I couldn't bear the thought—"

"Do you think I wanted to leave?" Erik whispered. "And…and after you told me what you did? I told you I was all right…I lied."

Charles sobbed again, and this time it came with tears. "Erik…"

Erik pulled him into his arms, held him close, and it was exactly what Charles wanted now. What he needed. His arms came up around Erik's shoulders and his fingers dug in but Erik didn't seem to mind at all.

Of course not. Because this wasn't real.

He buried his face in Erik's shoulder to smother another sob, let the fabric soak up the silent tears and he knew Erik wouldn't mind that either. Not now. He breathed in the scent of Erik's shirt and knew it was only from memory—his subconscious providing the sensation where it was needed to make this illusion complete—but he pushed knowledge of the fact aside and tried to let it soothe him anyway. It worked enough that he felt himself finally relaxing, too.

Once he had Erik pulled back just enough to look at him, to brush his fingers under Charles's chin and turn it up again.

But when he leaned closer Charles let out a small gasp and ducked his head, his face twisting in pain.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't see it, but he knew Erik was frowning, and his thumb still brushed against Charles's chin.

"I'm sorry," Charles cried quietly. "It's my fault. I couldn't protect you. She was a telepath, Erik, and I was stronger than she was! I should have been able to protect you!" He didn't look up. He couldn't look up.

But then his face was being turned up again, by force—not harsh force, just firm, but gentle—and then Erik's other hand was against his cheek, and Erik was shaking his head.

"It's not your fault. It happened. Things happen."

"But…" _Could have fought her off sooner. Could have gotten you out of there. Could have MADE you not go into that room and you would have hated me for it but you would be fine…_

Erik silenced him with a kiss, warm and soft and not much like Erik at all but somehow all him, and certainly not anything like Russia. But in some way it was what they both needed right now, and when it was done Erik left his forehead against Charles's.

"Shh," Erik scolded. "You're right; we don't need to do this right now."

"I wish we didn't have to do it at all," Charles swallowed.

"I know…"

Erik guided him to the couch by near the fireplace and drew him down onto it next to him, and Charles didn't protest. He didn't say anything, either, when Erik kept his arms tightly around him. Charles pulled his legs up onto the seat beside him and leaned into the touch. They were close enough that Erik could kiss him if he wanted to, and he did, more then once. Sometimes he pressed his lips to Charles's forehead, instead, or into his hair.

But otherwise they sat in silence, in each other's arms, together because they hadn't been before.

Slowly Charles began to sense Erik's emotions again, and he felt…love. He felt so much of it he didn't know how he'd overlooked it before.

But he also felt apprehension, and sorrow, and fear…everything he felt, too.

Where could they to go from here?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Erik didn't know how long they stayed there, on that couch in the room in the house that wasn't really there. He wondered if any real time had passed at all. He didn't quite understand how this worked—how this could seem so real when it was all, quite literally, in their heads.

Or Charles's head.

God…he was really dead. This was real, wasn't it? His body was gone. He didn't know what was supposed to happen next, but he knew he would give anything to stay here forever. With Charles.

But Erik also knew that would be wrong.

Still, he wouldn't blame Charles for doing this. He wouldn't be angry. How could he, when, being in here, he could feel how much Charles loved him. He could see it.

All those long weeks on the road…all that time…why the hell hadn't they figured it out before now? Why had it taken this? Were the both of them really that stubborn? He supposed so.

"You can't stay in here," Erik said finally.

Charles sighed beside him. "I know."

"They need you out there."

"Well I'm not so certain I would say _that_…"

Erik tightened his grip around Charles's shoulders for a moment. "Don't be so dense; of course they do."

Charles shook his head weakly, not looking up now. "They would be better off without me, Erik. Have I even told you what happened? Shaw attacked the base while we were gone. Darwin is dead, Angel has gone with him, and every human on site was killed. Where we really are is CIA headquarters."

"You talked to someone before I woke up?"

"Raven…"

Erik fell quiet then, jaw clenching. He couldn't bring himself to care about the humans as much beyond understanding that it was a tragedy, but Darwin had been a good kid and Angel…how could she have been so disillusioned? It was maddening. How could she betray someone like Charles like that?

"How is any of that your fault?" Erik asked finally.

"_I_ was the one who wanted to bring them to Russia, even though you didn't, and _I_ was the one who made the final decision to leave them behind. It's my fault, Erik. All of it." He didn't mention again blaming himself for what had happened _in_ Russia, but Erik knew he meant that too.

"Stop it," Erik said firmly. "It is not your fault. I don't want to hear it."

"This is my mind," Charles mumbled. "Shouldn't _I_ give the orders?"

"I'm not ordering you to do anything. I'm telling you that there isn't anything for you to feel badly about."

Charles nestled farther into his side, burying his face in Erik's neck not for the first time since they'd been sitting here. "I want to believe that," he whispered painfully.

Erik's arm moved to let him cup a hand at the back of Charles's head and neck, stroking the hair there, and he let his fingers weave through it and hoped it was comforting enough to get his point across. "Then believe it."

Charles made a small sound, but didn't answer, and Erik couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness.

Why did he love this man so much? Was it the intelligence, the mischievous spark in his eyes and smirk, the innocence he maintained anyhow, how much he cared about others when Erik couldn't, until now, bring himself to, or all of that and more? It was probably that last, and how could he make Charles understand how much he _did_ care for him?

This tugged at his heart, seeing Charles like this. All of his life things he had determined as weak had disgusted him, and emotions other than anger and thirst for vengeance he had considered weak—an opinion born of years being abused and shaped by Shaw; an attitude part of him hated but he held onto anyway. It kept him safe. But then he had met Charles, learned him, learned to care about, to love him, all without admitting any of it to himself, really. But in all of that he had learned that emotion was not weakness.

And these feelings, certainly, were not weakness. They were responsibility for what Charles thought he had caused. He was wrong, but at least he was willing to _take_ responsibility.

Still, Erik hoped that soon enough Charles would understand that there was nothing he could have done about any of this.

Erik let out a breath—though he supposed it wasn't really a breath, now that he thought about it—and kissed Charles's forehead again. "You should go for now. I'm sure Raven is anxious for you to wake up again, and the others must be wondering how you are."

"I suppose you're right…" Erik let his arms fall from around Charles's shoulders, and Charles sat up, looking at him. "I don't want to go."

"I'll be right here, Charles. I'm not going anywhere."

Charles grimaced. "I know, I just…" He looked away. "It's easier in here, I suppose. If I go back out there I have to start dealing with the fallout of all this…the world where you are, for all practical purposes, dead, and we've lost two of the children…"

"I know…but you won't be alone. You have me in here, and you have Raven and the others out there. It doesn't have to be as awful as you're making it sound."

Charles looked at him again, and raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you right so damned often?"

"I wasn't before?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

Erik chuckled some, and Charles finally smiled. This time he wasn't hesitant to take a kiss, and Erik gave it to him.

"Go on," Erik told him.

Charles nodded, and then everything was black for a moment—until Charles opened his eyes.

-

There was still no one else in the room when Charles woke; Raven had held the others off as she'd promised. Charles blinked at the far wall for a long moment, and suddenly he needed to know that it hadn't been a dream.

_Erik?_ he asked urgently.

_I'm here, Charles._

Charles let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and turned his face into the pillow for a moment until he was certain he wasn't going embarrass himself by crying again. When he looked out again he could sense Erik taking in the room through his eyes.

_It looks the same as the rooms on the base. I wouldn't have known we weren't there if you hadn't said anything._

"Well they are the CIA, Erik. I doubt they would have any reason to be concerned with original design in their facilities," Charles answered. His head still pounded to some extent, and it was easier to say it than to use the mental energy to think it and send it inward. Erik had access to at least his sight and hearing; speaking would work just fine. While they were alone and he could do that, anyway.

He started to sit up, and Erik reacted immediately.

_What are you doing?_

"Going to find Raven and the others; what else would I be doing?"

_I told you that you should WAKE up, not GET up. I don't think you should be getting up yet._

"Why on earth not? I'm not hurt."

_Your head hurts._

Charles paused, frowning, a hand o his forehead. "How do you know that? Can you feel it? If it's hurting you as well, I'm so sorry…"

_It's not hurting me. I don't…feel it myself. Not exactly. But it's more than just knowledge. Whatever you're feeling, it's like I'm getting it from a distance. I KNOW what you're feeling, but it doesn't really affect me. Or something like that. Maybe I'll be able to explain it better later._

"Oh…well that is interesting."

_THIS is going to be interesting. All of it, I'd wager. _

Charles chuckled weakly and tried to stand. He made it to his feet, but he swayed a bit.

_Charles…_

"I'm fine, Erik," he sighed.

_You don't feel fine. You feel unstable._

"I've never done anything like this before. That's all. I'm a bit worn out, I suppose, but nothing more. Nothing a few days won't fix."

_The words "of rest" were supposed to be there somewhere, and you need to lay down. _

"You were the one who said that Raven and the others are probably concerned for me. I should let them know I'm up."

_You're not up. You don't need to BE up. Raven will come to check on you soon enough; just get back into bed._

Charles was holding onto the metal headboard, and he shook his head and moved to the foot to his bag. "What are you now; my conscience?"

_That's usually the definition of a voice in your head telling you what you should do. So by definition, yes, actually. _

Charles groaned. "God, that is an absolutely awful joke."

_You asked. _A pause. _You're not getting back into bed, are you?_

He didn't bother to answer that; unzipping his suitcase was answer enough.

_At least dress comfortably; you'll be even more miserable if you don't._

"I am not miserable," he murmured. But it was a lie. The headache was at a manageable enough level now, but it was not fun. Either way, he took Erik's advice. Once he'd replaced his pajama pants with trousers he put on socks and shoved his feet into a pair of loafers rather than other shoes, and merely pulled a cardigan on over his white t-shirt.

The same navy blue cardigan he'd been wearing the night he confronted Erik outside the other facility, Charles realized abruptly. The night he'd convinced him to stay. The night _something_ had almost happened. But nothing had. Still, the memory was enough that Charles almost pulled the sweater off to find another, though in the end he didn't.

He clutched the warm wool around him tighter, instead.

He was still lost in thought when Erik cut in gently, though he didn't know how much Erik knew of what had been going through his mind. If he knew anything at all. Charles wasn't sure how much bleed-through there was on Erik's side.

_You should take something for that headache, if you're going to insist on being up,_ Erik was telling him.

"I know," he sighed. "I have something."

Charles reached into the side pocket of his suitcase to pull out the bottle that was all too familiar now, and he expected the reaction from Erik that he got. It was why he'd never let his friend see this bottle before. He supposed he could have pulled it out and retrieved the pills without looking at it, and Erik wouldn't have known precisely what it was, but it seemed ridiculous to try to hide it now—to try to hide anything from someone in his own body with him.

_Charles, what the HELL is that? Why do you need PRESCRIPTION pain medication? _Anger. There was definitely anger there.

He moved to the sink in the small bathroom at the front corner of the room, finding a glass to fill with water. "I'm a telepath, Erik. When I was learning to control my powers when I was young I needed them almost constantly; too many minds and I couldn't keep them out, and it was painful."

_You're avoiding the question. That doesn't explain why you have them now. _

Charles winced. "It's nothing. I haven't needed them much at all in more than a decade, but I've always kept them on hand."

This time it was a moment before Erik said anything else, and Charles used the moment to shakes two pills from the bottle and swallow them. He was washing them down with the water when Erik responded again.

_I still think there's something you're not telling me. _

Charles pushed the top back onto the bottle and shrugged guiltily. "It was Cerebro. Not that it matters anymore; Shaw's attack on the base destroyed it."

_Cerebro? That thing was HURTING you? _Erik burst angrily. _Why didn't you say anything?_

"I-it wasn't awful," Charles insisted. "The headaches returned, and the medication helped enough. I didn't want to throw a wrench into things; there seemed no reason to.

_Damnit, Charles, you're too stubborn for your own good. Don't think you'll get away with anything like that with me in here._

"Well noted." He glanced up then, finally caught a real glimpse of himself in the mirror, and grimaced. Paler than usual, hair mussed and rather lackluster, dark dark circles beneath his eyes…it was a wonder Raven had agreed to leave him alone for a second. And perhaps Erik did have a point.

_You look like hell._

"Yes, I'd noticed, thank you," he all but growled quietly.

This time when Erik spoke up again there was true anxiousness behind the voice in his mind. Seriousness.

_Charles, are you sure this is all right? Are you all right with me here? Somehow I don't know if this is…healthy. _

Charles moved away from the mirror to bring the medicine bottle back to his suitcase. "We've already determined that we need to find an alternative. If having two consciousnesses in my mind is not the best idea…well we do already know that we'll be looking for another solution anyhow. Don't worry about it."

_I don't want to hurt you. _

"Erik, _stop_," he said, and stopped in his tracks himself, in the middle of the room between the two short rows of beds. "This isn't…something else, that you're talking about. This is _you_. Your _life_. If you weren't here with me you wouldn't _be_ here, and I won't have you considering that particular alternative. Whether your presence is detrimental or not doesn't matter—and I'm telling you that it isn't. Besides that, we have no other choice at the moment, until we can find one. So there is no point in worrying about it, because there is nothing we can do. Understood?"

It was more commanding than he had ever, _ever_ been with Erik, but the sudden panic in his chest forced it from him.

_Fine,_ Erik replied tersely. And then, _For now_.

It was good enough. For now.

"Good," he sighed aloud. "Good."

He found a brush and did enough maintenance on his hair to be presentable, and the reached out to his sister and followed her presence to a small, spartan lounge down the corridor that did indeed look much like the ones from the other facility.

All of them were there—Hank and Sean and Alex and even Moira, along with his sister. Raven was standing when he came in, arms crossed over her chest.

"There he is—Charles, what are you doing out of bed?" She came to him and hugged him, and Charles squeezed back willingly.

"I'm all right."

"I'll believe that at a time that isn't now," she told him good-naturedly. She kissed his cheek and pulled him toward an empty seat on one of the dull gray couches. "Come on; get off your feet."

_Have I ever told you how much I like her?_

_ Please be quiet_, Charles told him, exasperated. _I have to decide how to tell them that you're here without them thinking I'm insane. _

_ Do we have to tell them at all?_

_ Don't you want them to know?_

_ I don't know that it matters much to me either way. The rest of them never paid much attention to me anyhow. Though it would be a good idea to tell at least Raven, I suppose._

_ Erik…_

Raven hadn't managed to get him to the couch yet, because the others were up and closing in. Moira caught him first, surprising him with a brief embrace to follow Raven's, and the boys were standing awkwardly, unsure of what to say or how to act.

"I'm all right, really…" Charles trailed uncertainly. He sighed. "I'm so sorry about what happened while we were gone. I should have known it was a horrible idea to leave the lot of you behind—"

"Hey, don't…you know, say that. It's not your fault, or anything," Hank said, cutting him off. The other two boys were nodding, agreeing with him.

"If he was gonna attack us he'd have done it anywhere," Alex added, though he was glaring at something in the distance.

Sean shrugged uncomfortably and wouldn't quite look at him. "And we're sorry and all…about Erik."

Charles winced. "I'm sorry that Darwin is gone and that Angel betrayed us. But perhaps it isn't best to dwell on it. The question is what we're going to do now."

"We have nowhere to go," Hank said. "I don't think they want us here for long. I've been working for these people for a while, and I know their vibes. This is headquarters, and we're mutants. I don't think they want us too close any longer than we have to be." He was scowling, and Charles knew he was completely serious.

"Ah. Well…"

Erik snorted. _Figures. _

With the awkward pause Raven was able to pull him the rest of the way to the couch and get him to sit, and the others found seats again too. Raven was at his side, pressed close, and it was comforting. He exchanged a knowing glance with her, and looked at the others again once everyone was settled.

"We _do_ have somewhere to go. Raven and I, our home is just a few hours from here, in New York. We could get there easily enough."

"And do _what_?" Alex questioned.

_That's a good question, _Charles thought to himself.

_Avenge Darwin. Stop him. Stop whatever he's trying to do_, Erik said firmly.

"Shaw is trying to start a nuclear war," Moira said, speaking up suddenly. "He has to be stopped, and I really don't see the CIA making that happen. Not when he's a mutant."

Charles looked at her sharply—forcing himself not to make a face from the pain in his head when he did it—but for the others it didn't seem to be new information. "How do you know that for certain?"

"It's the only thing Emma Frost has told us. She's practically bragging about it. And with the Russian missiles on course for Cuba, it's going to be easy enough to do. More than likely this is going to develop into a standoff."

_ Oh god…_

_ Damnit,_ Erik growled. _I should have known he wouldn't settle for anything less than the worst thing he could possibly do. _

_ We're the only ones who can stop him, aren't we?_

_ Probably. If WE can. _

Charles paused. _We have to tell them you're still here. We're going to need your insight on this; no one knows Shaw better than you do._

And he felt Erik's slightly grudging agreement, and took a deep breath. "Then _we_ stop him," Charles said aloud. "We go to New York, and we train. All of us."

"Sounds good to me," Sean nodded.

Alex's eyebrows went up. "Yeah."

Hank, Moira, and Raven were only smiling, but Charles knew they were with them too. "Good. Perfect." He was quiet for a long moment, looking at them all, and he sat forward, elbows on his knees, trying once again to determine the best way to say this. "However, before we do anything at all there is something that all of you need to know…"

Raven was frowning now. "What are you talking about?"

_There is no way they're going to believe this._

_ You're right._

Charles shook his head. "There's no way to explain." He brought two fingers to his temple. "It would make much more sense to show you." He swept his gaze over all of them. "Is that all right?"

All of them nodded in bewilderment, and he nodded in return and closed his eyes, and showed them.

Not all of it. Not the worst parts. Not the best parts either. Not the feelings for each other that he and Erik had discovered and no the arguments over what to do about this now or any of that. Just that Erik had been shot and Charles had had no choice and the fact that Erik was, in fact, still here. In Charles's mind. Without being too intrusive about it he showed them the important points, and made them understand that what he was showing them was real—no imagination.

Charles hoped he was doing the right things, and when he opened his eyes and let his hand fall from his temple all of them were staring at him, and it was Raven that he looked at because she was his sister.

She was looking at him, wide-eyed, as if she could see straight through him to the other consciousness that was there. She was the first to speak, while the others were still stunned to silence.

"Oh my god."


End file.
